Brought Together by Baby

by Margaret McDonagh

  Ms Davison crossed her arms defensively across her chest. ‘I merely commented that it isn’t easy for a man on his own—’ she began, but the words only fuelled Holly’s anger.

  ‘It’s not easy for a woman alone, either, but I don’t suppose you go along to visit them within hours of their babies arriving and ask if they’ve thought about adoption.’

  ‘No, of course not, and this isn’t an official visit. My intention was only to introduce myself. But—’

  ‘Be that as it may,’ Holly persisted, warming to her argument and prepared to do anything to protect her beautiful nephew, ‘Gus isn’t alone. He has a hospital full of friends who will rally round to help him in any way they can. And then there’s me.’ Feeling Gus’s gaze on her, she sucked in a breath and pressed ahead while she had the chance. ‘I’m family. I’ll do whatever is necessary to support Gus—including moving into his house to help care for the baby.’

  ‘What about work? Both of you have demanding jobs,’ the annoying woman pointed out, apparently determined only to see problems.

  Holly wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. ‘It’s not rocket science! We’ll stagger our hours, ensuring that one of us is always there for the baby. And friends will willingly cover any occasional gaps. I doubt many new parents have such a well-qualified pool of babysitters to call on as Gus has.’

  ‘Well, you seem determined. I can see you’ve thought it all out.’ Alison Davison’s disappointment was evident, but thankfully she seemed ready to admit defeat. ‘I’ll leave you my card in case there’s anything I can do for you.’

  Holly was unsurprised but secretly delighted when Gus threw the card away before the woman’s retreating figure had disappeared from view. Still wearing his scrubs, he looked rumpled and exhausted, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. His green gaze shifted, holding her own captive, and Holly swallowed, hoping she hadn’t overstepped the mark in her response to Alison Davison.

  As the silence lengthened, and he continued to regard her with that brooding expression, her nervousness increased. What was he thinking? He looked wary and suspicious, and his lack of trust in her, proving again how far things had broken down between them, made her unutterably sad. It also made her anxious about how they would work together in the days and weeks ahead. Always assuming Gus was prepared to allow her a role in the baby’s life.

  A sigh shuddered from her. However impossible it might prove to be for her to be around Gus so much, she had to set her personal issues aside and do what was best. Best for her nephew…and best for the man she had never been able to stop loving. ‘Did you mean what you said?’ Gus queried, cautious and uncertain, taken aback by the way Holly had rushed into battle, giving him such vehement support. Again she had appeared genuine and sincere, leaving him even more confused. ‘About wanting to move in and be involved with the baby, I mean?’

  * * *

  Sky-blue eyes reflected a flicker of the fiery passion with which she’d faced down Alison Davison. ‘Of course I meant it! I know I rushed ahead without consulting you, but she just made me so mad.’

  Gus couldn’t prevent an inner flash of amusement. Oh, had she been mad! He’d never seen her like that before.

  ‘You ought to report her for what she said, and the thoughtless timing of her visit. It’s early days,’ she continued, moderating her tone, ‘and you haven’t had time to think, but living in as I suggested makes sense, Gus…doesn’t it?’

  Unfortunately it did make sense. He dragged the fingers of one hand through his hair, feeling tired and drained after the shocking events of the last hours. It seemed a lifetime ago that he’d first learned of the accident, and so much had happened since then…The terrifying wait for news of whether or not his baby was alive; meeting the neonatal consultant Mr Haggerty; confirmation that there was no hope for Julia; seeing his son for the first time. On top of all that had been various to-ings and fro-ings of doctors, nurses and policemen with their questions. The last thing he had needed was Alison Davison’s ill-advised visit.

  In the days ahead there would be more on the investigation from the police liaison officer assigned to the case, and more from the doctors on the baby’s medical condition. For now, though, they were free of outside interventions. Apart from the dedicated nurses on duty it was just him and his son. And Holly.

  He sat down, watching as Holly moved back to her own chair, a smile transforming her face as she leaned forward and slid a hand inside the cot. A little gasp of delight escaped her as the sleeping baby automatically curled his tiny but perfectly formed hand around one of her fingers. Something raw, powerful and dangerous churned inside him as he took in the tableau in front of him.

  It was true Holly had shown no interest in his son before, so what had changed? And could he trust her? He didn’t know what lay behind her suggestions, but counteracting his doubts was the knowledge that Holly was an excellent nurse; he’d seen that for himself during the time they’d worked together.

  There was no question whatsoever of him giving up his son, so he had to be realistic…however much he wanted to, he couldn’t do everything alone. He didn’t want to bring in a stranger, and in Holly he would have someone with skills in both children’s and trauma nursing—plus she was apparently willing to help. He hadn’t yet considered all the ramifications, but the most sensible idea would be for Holly to move into his house…at least for the time being. It was the last thing he wanted. But his wants didn’t matter. The baby’s did. And if being forced into close proximity with Holly was right for his child in these early formative weeks and months, then he’d just have to find a way to live with it and make it work.

  ‘All right. We’ll try it.’ His agreement was tentative and reluctant, the decision made for his son’s sake, not his own.

  ‘Thank you.’ The words were brief and she kept her gaze averted, so he was unable to gauge her real feelings. ‘Have you considered a name, Gus?’

  Holly’s question changed the direction of his thoughts and he looked at his tiny son, marvelling anew at the perfection of him: the cap of soft, downy light brown hair on his head, the little movements of his mouth as he slept, the beat of his heart so visible under the almost translucent skin of his chest. Love welled within him, along with knowledge of the magnitude of the responsibilities that lay ahead.

  ‘I hate to keep referring to him as “the baby”,’ Holly added, gently fingering the security band around his son’s fragile wrist, which simply read, ‘Baby Buchanan’.

  ‘No decision was made regarding names,’ he answered gruffly.

  In truth he hadn’t given it much thought, because Julia had been determined that she would decide. It had been one of many points of contention, but at the time it hadn’t seemed imminently important, and he’d refused to be drawn into an argument when Julia had come up with ever more ridiculous names, inspired by the celebrity trend for the weird and unusual.

  ‘I don’t mean to intrude, but I have an idea if you’d care to hear it…one that I think means something to you and has resonance with both sides of the baby’s family.’

  The nervousness and reticence in Holly’s voice suggested she was treading on eggshells around him. Weary, but grateful for the support she’d shown him, he made an effort to be less brusque with her.

  ‘Tell me,’ he invited, earning himself the barest flicker of a smile.

  ‘I was thinking…’ She paused, glancing at him uncertainly before returning her gaze to the sleeping form in the cot. ‘If you don’t like it, that’s fine—you choose whatever you want—but I came up with Max. Maxwell Angus Tait Buchanan.’

  A fist clenched inside him as the full impact of Holly’s proposition sank in. She’d not only remembered something he’d told her ten months earlier, but she’d grasped its significance. The Christian name belonged to the only person who had meant anything in his life before he’d come to Strathlochan.

  Maxwell McTavish. The teacher who had looked past the exterior and seen the boy within. He’d
become his mentor and confidant, encouraging him to fulfil his potential and helping him believe in himself. Maxwell’s sudden death four years ago had left him distraught, Gus admitted, choking up with the memories.

  Apart from Maxwell, Holly was the only other person he’d ever trusted, talked to or allowed into his heart. He still didn’t understand the intense connection between them during his first weeks in Strathlochan, but he’d shared things with Holly that he’d never revealed to another living soul. Not even Maxwell. And, despite recent hostilities, Holly had suggested the one name guaranteed to touch his emotions.

  ‘You remembered,’ he murmured, his voice hoarse.

  ‘Yes.’ Her eyes were huge as she looked at him—huge and filled with doubt. ‘If you don’t like it—’

  ‘I do.’ He shook his head to get rid of the confusion. Of course he liked it. He couldn’t have picked anything better himself. He met her gaze, not caring for that brief moment what he revealed to her. ‘Thank you, Holly.’

  He saw her swallow, saw the sheen of moisture that clouded her eyes, and his heart turned over when she produced the first natural smile he’d seen from her in months. A smile that dimpled her cheeks, squeezed his heart and turned his insides to mush.

  * * *

  Relieved by Gus’s reaction to her idea about the name, Holly was moved by the emotion he revealed to her, reminding her of the old Gus—her Gus—in the days when they’d shared a special closeness. At least on her side. She was no longer sure Gus had felt anything. Maybe she’d just deluded herself that he’d felt something for her because she’d so desperately wanted him to.

  She’d been scared to mention the name, unsure if Gus would find her suggestion intrusive. She knew what Maxwell McTavish had meant to him, just as she understood why family was so important…the reason she’d known he would move heaven and earth for his child. And she knew all this because, days after they’d met, he’d told her about his life and Maxwell’s place in it.

  ‘How long have you lived in Strathlochan?’ Gus had asked as they’d sat outside having a late lunch after a busy morning in A&E.

  ‘All my life,’ she’d told him, licking some stray mayonnaise from her tuna sandwich off her fingers. ‘I was born and raised here. My dad died when I was sixteen, which was really hard, and I stayed with my mum at home while I did my nursing training—which was good, because I was able to take care of her when she became ill.’

  Gus had been sympathetic, listening as if what she’d said was important to him. Encouraged by his attention, she’d opened up and shared some of her childhood memories…ones that didn’t include Julia. He hadn’t asked if she had any siblings, and that suited her just fine. The longer she kept Julia a secret the better.

  ‘Do you still live in the house?’ he’d asked.

  ‘No, it had to be sold after Mum died.’ She’d struggled to control her emotions, hiding the real reason she’d had to say goodbye to the home she loved. ‘That’s when I moved in with George. I’ve been there ever since.’

  Gus’s mood had changed in an instant, his face tightening, long lashes lowering to mask the expression in his eyes. ‘Oh, right. Sorry, I didn’t realise.’

  ‘Realise what?’ she’d asked, confused by the sudden change in him and the flat, distant tone of his voice.

  ‘That you were involved with someone.’

  ‘Involved?’ she’d repeated with a puzzled frown.

  Sighing, Gus had sat back on the bench, hands thrust into the pockets of his scrub trousers as he’d gazed up at the blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. ‘George.’

  ‘Oh!’ She hadn’t been able to prevent a giggle escaping as the misunderstanding had become clear. ‘George as in Georgia Millar…she’s a staff nurse on the Children’s Ward!’

  His answering chuckle had been laden with relief and a hint of embarrassment. ‘Right…that’s good! I’ve probably seen her around the hospital, but I can’t put a face to the name,’ he’d responded, finishing his sandwich with renewed appetite.

  The knowledge that he’d been upset at the thought of her with another man had brought a warm glow and a tingle of excitement as she’d dared to hope he might like her as much as she liked him.

  ‘George lost her dad shortly before my mum died. Since then she’s rented out rooms in her house,’ Holly had explained. ‘Kelly—as in Kelly Young from A&E—lives there, too.’

  ‘Is that something you thought of doing in your own home?’

  Gus’s question had hit a raw nerve, and she’d looked away lest he read the emotions in her eyes. She’d shaken her head, declining to explain why his suggestion wouldn’t have worked for her as it had so successfully for George. Doing so would have meant telling him about Julia, and that had been a road she hadn’t wanted to travel.

  ‘How about you, Gus?’ she’d asked, moving the conversation away from herself. She’d more or less fallen in love with Gus from day one and wanted to find out all about him. ‘What’s your family like?’

  ‘I don’t know…I’ve never had one.’

  Her bottle of juice had remained suspended in mid-air, part-way to her mouth, untasted and forgotten. She’d turned to face Gus, shocked not only by his words but by the bleak emptiness in his voice. Unable to stop herself, she’d reached out her free hand to take one of his, their fingers naturally entwining.

  ‘How do you mean?’ The question whispered from her, and she felt a mix of trepidation and suspense as she waited for him to answer, fearful for several long, tense moments that he’d shut himself away and not confide in her. ‘Gus…?’

  A jagged breath shuddered from him and he sat forward, his gaze averted, his fingers clinging to hers as if to a lifeline. Her drink set aside, Holly held on tight with both hands, willing him to talk, but increasingly fearful of what he might say.

  ‘I was abandoned outside a hospital in Glasgow one frosty March morning,’ he began, and Holly barely contained her gasp of shock. ‘A nurse found me and rushed me inside. I was only a few hours old. They treated me for near hypothermia, and it was touch and go for a while whether I’d develop pneumonia or some other breathing problem. I didn’t. An appeal went out for my mother to come forward—there were concerns for her own health, physical and mental—but she never did. And a police enquiry proved fruitless.’

  A shiver ran through her at the cold, emotionless tone of his voice. ‘Wh-What happened to you?’ she managed, stunned by the image of Gus as a baby, abandoned in the cold.

  ‘The nurse who found me named me Angus, but I’ve no idea where Buchanan came from.’ He paused, glancing briefly in her direction, and Holly squeezed his hand supportively. ‘When I was well enough to leave hospital I was placed in foster care,’ he continued, fledgling emotion beginning to challenge the dispassionate nature of his account. ‘It became one foster home after another for the first few years until I was finally placed in a children’s home, age six, labelled difficult and unable to settle.’

  ‘How could any child settle in circumstances like that?’ Holly exclaimed, incapable of containing her reaction, furious and hurting for the little boy who had been passed from pillar to post for so many years. Of course he hadn’t been able to put down roots. He must have felt unloved and frightened, and horribly let down by a system designed to help which, in his case, had failed abysmally.

  ‘I don’t know. I certainly didn’t. Not that the home was any better,’ he admitted, and she could feel the shudder that ran through him as he faced his memories. ‘I hated it there.’

  Holly struggled to keep her tears for him at bay. ‘How long were you there?’

  ‘Until I was sixteen.’

  ‘All that time?’ she responded, unable to keep a horrified gasp in check. ‘What about adoption? Why didn’t they help find you a loving family?’

  His expression hardened, but she saw the hurt and loneliness in his eyes before he looked away. ‘They tried…but no one wanted me.’

  ‘Oh, Gus,’ she whispered, a tear escaping.
>
  ‘Don’t cry for me.’ The fingers of his free hand gently wiped her cheek. ‘I survived. And when I started senior school I met Maxwell McTavish.’

  As a smile stripped the harshness from his face Holly latched onto the information he’d given. ‘He was a teacher?’ she asked, anxious to learn more, to hear what had shaped him into the man he was today.

  ‘Yes. He saw something in me and had the patience and dedication to burrow past the angry, defensive exterior I’d cultivated to find it. He’s the nearest thing I ever had to a father. It’s thanks to him that education became my way out and gave me a chance to make something of myself.’

  He let out a deep breath, and she wanted to hug the man for giving Gus the care and encouragement he’d badly needed.

  ‘He sounds amazing.’

  ‘He was,’ Gus allowed, a waver in his voice, his smile fading.

  Heart in her mouth, she whispered the question that hung in the air. ‘Was?’

  ‘Was.’ Gus swallowed, emotion thickening his voice, his fingers once more tightening on hers. ‘He died four years ago—a sudden massive stroke. He was only fifty-four. I never had the chance to say goodbye or to thank him. And he never saw me qualify as a doctor.’

  Uncaring who saw them, or what anyone thought, Holly wrapped her arms around him, fresh tears squeezing between her lashes. Having lost her own father suddenly, she knew how Gus must have felt about Maxwell, the man who had fulfilled Gus’s need to feel loved and to belong.

  ‘I’m sure he knew how you felt. And he’d be so very proud of you, Gus. You’re a credit to him,’ she murmured, her own emotions showing as she attempted to comfort him, her tears dampening the top of his scrubs.

  ‘Thank you, Holly.’

  As they finished their lunch he told her more about Maxwell, and then he spoke of his feelings growing up alone, of what the idea of family meant to him.